


The Sounds We Find In Silence

by Missgoldy



Category: Captain Planet and the Planeteers
Genre: Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Consensual Sex, Control, Cunnilingus, Denial, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Making Out, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Teasing, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22302499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missgoldy/pseuds/Missgoldy
Summary: It's those small, barely perceptible moments that make all the difference.
Relationships: Linka/Wheeler (Captain Planet), Linka/Wheeler/Gi (Captain Planet)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus.
> 
> When writing gratuitous exchange smut, remind me to block out any CP characters who start campaigning loudly for attention in my brain. 
> 
> Okay, Wheeler. Okay. I’ll give you a goddamn threesome, you persistent bastard.

Gi wonders if life leads you in certain directions.

You know, if the wings of a butterfly flap in Brazil, will it set off a tornado in Texas? Will an overturned glass of water in Mexico cause a tidal wave in Croatia? Can a series of small, inconsequential events build up over time, leading someone down a path they had no clue they were heading?

She slumps back against the counter, clutching her wine glass in one hand and rubbing her forehead with the other. Alcohol tends to steer her thoughts into a philosophical minefield, so she ponders things for a while, watching the live band play from the corner of the small dance floor. The girl on stage has a terrific voice, deep and throaty, but the guy is all ego and little talent; out of tune and sleazy looking.

Gi sighs, keeping a curious eye trained on her two friends who are in exactly the same predicament she assumed they’d be by now. It’s the same predicament they find themselves in time after time, year after year.

Two hours in, and Wheeler has found himself at the pool table, surrounded by a bunch of friendly college students. He’s his usual relaxed and carefree self, laughing and joking with complete strangers, including a mystery blonde who’s all over him. Her ass is propped on the edge of the table and she’s straddling his hips with her thighs, giggling as he attempts to lean over her and take his shot. Funnily enough, he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. Wheeler still manages to sink a couple of balls, and Gi knows that he’ll be sinking several more before the night is out.

Linka is seated nearby and just looks miserable, her face all slack and forlorn, pointedly looking in the opposite direction with her purse clutched tightly in her lap. She looks lovely tonight, dressed in a pale blue maxi dress, her face lightly dusted with make-up and her hair piled up in a loose bun. Certainly not lacking in male attention, Linka is pretty much ignoring anyone who comes her way.

The strobe lighting above Gi’s head is enough to induce an epileptic fit, so she sashays her way toward the lounge area, sinking into the plush fabric beside Linka.

“Strangling a cat,” Gi mutters, eyeing the Mick Jagger wannabe. The guy is gyrating against the microphone stand now, and Gi recoils in disgust. “Ew. They’re gonna have to sanitise that thing —”

“She is practically mounting his leg,” Linka seethes through gritted teeth, sending a death glare in Wheeler’s direction. “What sort of cheap _flooshie_ would —"

“She knows what she wants, Lin,” Gi says patiently, noting the way the woman whispers something in his ear; a distinct ‘_come hither’_ look in her eyes. “Can’t blame a girl who —”

“He is letting her rub up against him —”

“You wanted to come,” Gi says warningly, nodding in Wheeler’s direction. “You always want to come, and then you spend the whole night ignoring him —”

Linka’s face tightens. “I do not,” she whispers.

“Happens every time. You can’t blame him for giving up and moving on after all this time —"

Linka says nothing, just stares in the direction of the empty space recently vacated by Wheeler and his new ‘friend’. They’ve moved on, no doubt disappearing into the night with one goal in mind, and Linka just looks crestfallen.

Gi pats Linka’s bare knee reassuringly. “We’re not kids anymore. You just need to loosen up and go with the flow, sometimes.”

“I don’t know how,” Linka sighs, her eyes filling with tears. She wipes them away hastily, and Gi feels a surge of grief for her friend.

They sit together for another hour in a companionable silence, downing their drinks and politely dismissing the men who attempt to hit on them. Eventually, the band announces their break and the music selection turns to utter, headbanging shit. When the techno becomes too much for them, they grab their purses and return to the hotel arm in arm.

Undressing, they climb wearily into their shared bed and settle down for the night, discussing the art of flirting, body language and sexuality, concepts that Linka concedes are utterly foreign to her.

With a frustrated sigh, Linka tosses her arm across Gi’s waist as they fall asleep, her breath slow and warm against the back of Gi’s neck.

* * *

The scent of salt and sand hangs low in the air. Gi lies stretched out on the couch in her sleep wear, her head propped against the arm rest. The television channels keep changing, courtesy of an over-zealous red-head slumped within the lone armchair, prone to channel-surfing whilst in control of the remote.

Linka glares at the television as countless lifestyle programs are flicked through in quick succession. “_Bozhe moy_, Wheeler. Pick a channel and stick with it!”

Wheeler grunts in response but doesn’t slow down his efforts. “There’s nothin’ on.”

“The two hundred perfectly acceptable programs you have blitzed through would beg to differ.”

“Well, unless that’s a TV guide in your hot little hands —”

“Are you going to see him again?” Linka interrupts, glancing up over the top of a thick novel. She’s seated near Gi’s feet, flicking pages distractedly.

“Dunno,” Gi shrugs, nudging Linka’s shoulder with her toe. “I’m not feeling it, you know?”

Linka shrugs, and Gi realises she probably doesn’t.

“What are you not feeling?”

“There’s no connection,” Gi complains. “No spark.”

“It’s not fucking rocket science,” Wheeler mutters. “I swear, you girls analyse the shit outta everything —”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Gi says indignantly. “Men aren’t fussy. Couple of pumps and you guys get immediate and guaranteed gratification —”

“And you don’t?”

“No!” she says indignantly. “I get no foreplay, an elbow either side of my ears and my hair pulled out from the roots from where his arms are positioned —”

“Kinky,” Wheeler comments with a grin, although it fades just as quickly. He scratches his head thoughtfully. “Nah. That’s pathetic, actually.”

“He’s a nice guy, but…” she trails off with a sigh, noting Linka’s flushed face and obvious discomfort, even whilst buried within her book. “Anyway. Like I said… I’m not feelin’ it.”

“Literally.”

She laughs at that. “Yeah.”

“Life’s too short for bad sex,” Wheeler sighs, tossing the remote to Linka and yawning. He flings an arm across his face, keeping a curious eye trained on Gi. “Dump his sorry ass.”

“Because he’s bad in bed?” Gi tucks her legs underneath her and settles back. “Isn’t that kind of shallow?”

“He’s obviously not puttin’ any effort in,” Wheeler says, giving her a mischievous grin. “Nothin’ sexier than givin’ a girl a mindblowin’ —"

“Oh, I am going to bed,” Linka interrupts. She slams her book closed and strides from the room, and Wheeler watches her go, his eyes following her svelte figure with a lustful resonance.

* * *

At first, their conversations are played for sheer entertainment value, seeing how far they can both push Linka’s comfort level before she crumbles and heads for the security of her bedroom, red-faced and shy.

Always after dark, when the others have gone to bed, they spend their evenings together between missions, laid out across plush couches, in parks or sprawled on the beach on Hope Island, their legs stretched out, letting the tide drag and pull them around. The topic of conversation heads south at some point, as it always does, plunging into somewhat sordid and lewd territory.

Gi and Wheeler talk, and Linka just observes, caught somewhere between discomfort and reluctant interest. Small but tangible moments, building with an odd intensity.

Gi learns a lot about Wheeler, namely that he’s fucked more women than Gi’s had hot breakfasts. Some of the stories are quite hair raising and unintentionally hilarious. He reminisces about his first time, after a high school football game at the back of the bleachers with one of the junior cheerleaders, recalling poking and prodding her blindly in the dark until he found what he was looking for. Fumbling and awkward, he’d lasted all of sixty seconds.

He recalls his first girlfriend, together for six months until he received his ring. He speaks of her fondly and with respect, and a touch of melancholy which surprises her. Wheeler assumes she’s moved on to greener pastures.

“Probably for the best,” he says ruefully, running a hand through his hair and settling his gaze on the television again. Linka regards him carefully for a while, her eyes dark and watchful before she bids them goodnight.

* * *

More moments, little conversations and admissions held sacred and secret amongst the three of them, shared confidentially amongst close friends. There’s no guilt or awkwardness. Wheeler is honest and forthright about it all, which Gi finds liberating.

Linka usually reads, her nose buried in a book, but Gi knows she’s a silent contributor, listening and following every conversation intently.

On a balmy Sunday night in the common room, with the wind battering the windows, Wheeler shares the worst sex he’s ever had; a one-night-stand with a woman whose apartment was filled to the brim with dolls and stuffed animals.

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Gi laments. “Obviously in touch with her inner child.”

“Havin’ a chick bouncin’ around on your dick with fifteen demonic cabbage-patch dolls starin’ you down does nothin’ for a guy’s stamina,” he grumbles, and this strikes Linka as deliciously funny.

She snorts unexpectedly, shrieking with laughter, which sets Gi off in turn.

* * *

“Three,” Gi says sleepily, rolling her eyes skyward, trying to draw forth the details with a yawn. “First time I was drunk, maybe two years after I met you guys. Second guy was a somewhat regular thing. Third guy was —”

“A hair-pullin’ waste of space?” Wheeler mutters.

“Yeah,” she breathes, “but I’m seeing number two again.”

“Really?”

“I like him. He’s goofy but he makes me laugh.”

Gi sits cross-legged in the sand, stroking her fingers through the mass of long blonde hair draped over her lap. Linka lies curled up between them on the sand, her face slack and peaceful as she dozes… or, at least, she thinks she’s dozing. Gi’s never really sure, anymore.

She tugs at the knots carefully, dragging her fingernails gently through Linka’s scalp. It’s hot and sticky tonight, leaving a light sheen of perspiration on her skin. Gi fans herself idly, wriggling her toes as the water laps around their heels, providing much-needed relief from the heat.

“Least favourite part of your body?”

“Boobs.”

“Really?” He frowns, seeming to inspect her singlet-clad chest for a moment. “Why is that?”

“Too small.”

Wheeler chuckles. “More than a handful’s wasted, Gi.”

She grins, liking that response far more than he’ll ever know.

“Favourite place to be touched,” Gi asks, throwing him a combative look when he smirks widely. “And I’m talking sensitive spots, moron. NOT genitalia.”

“Thanks for clarifyin’,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I dunno. Neck, maybe?”

“Uh huh.”

“Weirdest thing you’ve ever been asked to do for a guy?”

Gi thinks on that a moment, feeling the breeze ruffling her hair. She wears it longer these days, down past her shoulders, a conscious effort not to look like a ten-year-old page boy. “I had to shave a guy’s back hair on the third date.”

“What?” he sputtered. “Why?”

“We were going to the beach,” she says absently. “He had a masculine gorilla vibe going on. Didn’t want to scare the local kids.”

He chuckles at that. “Never had that problem.”

“Favourite thing to do to a woman,” Gi asks. “Besides the obvious.”

“Geez…” He chuckles again, running a hand through his hair, a bashful grin on his face. “Looove goin’ down on a girl.”

“Oh, this is great,” Gi giggles. “I have so much dirt on you —"

“Favourite position?” Wheeler asks.

“Cowgirl,” she says without hesitation. “You?”

“Yeah, that’s definitely up there,” he says, digging his fingers into the sand. “I like takin’ a girl from behind.”

“Why?”

“Angle. Sensation,” he says. “The view ain’t bad at all,” he adds with a grin.

“Hmm,” she replies, scanning the shoreline and the waves crashing against the rocks in the distance. “Okay. If any woman on earth was available to you… Who would be your dream fuck?”

He chuckles, flopping backward in the sand beside Linka with a resigned sigh. “You really feel the need to ask me that?”

“Stupid question?”

“You want a stupid answer?”

“God, you two piss me off, sometimes,” she grumbles. “Sort yourselves out or I’m gonna —"

“Can I ask you somethin’,” Wheeler says softly. He rolls onto his side, regarding Linka quietly. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and Gi feels a tug of pity for him.

“Sure.”

“What’s her deal?” he asks. “Cuz I’m pretty good at readin’ women, but this one baffles the livin’ hell outta me…”

“She’s just awkward,” Gi sighs. “She’s shy and she’s complicated.”

“Was I wastin’ my time all those years?” he asks, brushing Linka’s fringe away from her forehead with gentle fingers. He pauses, before correcting himself. “Am I _still _wastin’ my time wonderin’?”

Gi sighs, biting her lip and unsure how to answer him.

* * *

On another night, they’re reclining on a swing built for two but burdened by three, relaxing on the porch of a farmhouse for the night. The crickets chirp loudly as Linka resettles herself on the edge, with her long legs draped over Gi’s lap and her feet clutched warmly within Wheeler’s palms. They rock back and forth lazily, their limbs entwined in an oddly intimate manner.

“Favorite fantasy?” Gi asks drowsily, batting away mosquitoes. “And be honest.”

“Christ,” Wheeler mutters. He rubs the underside of Linka’s feet with his thumbs, pondering the question carefully. “Okay. I’m gonna go with the usual stereotype…”

“Which is?”

“Some girl on girl action wouldn’t go astray,” he says with a cheeky grin. “Sneaky little threesome would be up there.”

“Oh, big surprise there, you pervert.”

“You asked,” he laughs. “Show me a guy who doesn’t have a threesome at the top of his list.”

“Ugh.”

“Men are conditioned differently,” he explains. “Genetically, physically, hormonally. I get a girl naked and I’m ready to go.” He taps his forehead. “Girls need to provide a fucking street directory and flashing neon signs to help navigate —"

Gi snorts with indignation. “Well, if you guys took your damn time and paid attention to a girl’s body —”

“Hey,” he scoffs. “I’m not speakin’ for myself! I can guarantee you I’ve had no complaints in that department —”

“I’m talking in general, you big dope.”

“Well, what’s your fantasy, mermaid?” he retorts. His hands have moved higher, kneading the back of Linka’s calves, and Linka’s quiet, heavy-lidded gaze doesn’t escape Gi. “All talk and no action, huh?”

“I actually don’t have one,” she admits, scratching her head. “I —”

“You can’t be serious…” Wheeler snorts loudly. “That is such a cop-out —”

“I am serious!” she laughs. “I —"

“You’ve gotta have something,” he insists. “Come on. Big strappin’ black guys? You like it rough? Or maybe —"

“Finding a guy who doesn’t pull my hair out would be a good start,” she insists, giggling. “I dunno. A bit of role play, maybe?”

“I knew a girl who liked to dress up,” Wheeler muses, steadying his hand on Linka’s knee as she repositions herself again, curling up against Gi’s chest. “Complete with a Slytherin gown and a magic, vibrating wand.” He clenches his hand and makes a sharp, upward motion with his fist. “Used to jam that thing —"

“Oh god, I don’t wanna know,” Gi sputters, blocking her ears. “Is this going somewhere appropriate?”

“The wand sure as hell didn’t,” Wheeler muses.

“I don’t know whether we can handle any more of your sordid sexual escapades —"

“Oh god, it wasn’t me! I didn’t sleep with her,” he reassures them, laughing. “I just heard it second hand. Happened to a friend of mine —"

“Oh, sure —"

“I want to be tied up,” Linka utters huskily.

Wheeler’s hand clamps down, and a shocked silence descends.

Gi doesn’t quite know what to say, doubting for a moment that Linka has contributed to the conversation to begin with.

“Come again?” Wheeler says slowly, staring hard at her.

“That is my fantasy… to be held down.” Linka swallows nervously, her voice low and soft. “Tied up. That is what I would like…”

She trails off, embarrassed.

The chair continues swinging in the light breeze. As if emboldened by her admission, Wheeler’s fingers are feather-light on Linka’s lower thighs, stroking back and forth over her skin as he mulls this new information over. For Wheeler, a dark, unreadable expression has replaced the good-natured ribbing of only moments ago.

Gi props her chin on Linka’s shoulder. The silence remains, quiet and contemplative, broken only by Linka’s breath catching gently in her throat, courtesy of Wheeler’s roaming hands. He’s in a world of his own, and Gi sighs, feeling somewhat light-headed.

There’s a large moth circling the light bulb above them, and Gi glances upward, watching the insect butting against the glass bulb. Its wings flicker faster than the eye can comprehend.

Small, barely perceptible movements.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I got nothin'.
> 
> On with the show.

She doesn’t know what the hell is happening, but something has changed. There’s an intensity to their interactions tonight, witnessed though a soft haze of arousal.

They’re piled together in the girl’s hotel room on the sofa, Linka propped up against Gi’s chest, her legs pressed together and folded primly over Wheeler’s thighs.

The conversation has turned intimate, and most questions are directed toward Linka, since she has the most catching up to do. Simple ‘yes or no’ queries seem to be working the best. A quick nod or shake of the head, which requires less confidence than speaking out loud, it would seem.

Wheeler’s a lost cause. He’s slumped over, pressed into Linka’s side. His cheek rests on her shoulder, granting him a view of her soft cleavage, visible through the gap of her short-sleeved dressing gown. He’s taking his fill, his eyes scanning her figure greedily.

“Favourite part of your body?” Gi asks, her voice low and gentle, and Linka raises her hands to her breasts without thinking.

Wheeler mumbles something agreeable against her skin, and a faint smile touches Linka’s lips.

“Have you ever been with a guy?” Gi asks softly.

Linka nods, taking a shuddery breath as Wheeler tracks his finger down the centre of her chest, daring to dip between her breasts until the gathered fabric of her nightie halts his progress.

Gi frowns, rephrasing her question, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Have you slept with someone, I mean?“

A nod. _Yes._

“Did you like it?” Gi asks.

Wheeler slips his hand between her thighs and keeps it there, still and deliberate. Linka blinks at him distractedly, her chest rising and falling, her green eyes wide and unfocused.

“Did you like it?” Gi repeats, and Linka shakes her head slowly.

_No._

Wheeler’s hand moves higher, disappearing beneath the filmy cotton of Linka’s nightie. He brushes his fingers between her legs, and Linka lets a long sigh fall from her lips.

“You ever had a guy touch you down there?”

A shake of the head._ No._

Linka’s head tips back against Gi’s shoulder, her eyes lulling closed, and Gi puts her arms around her. The whole situation is bordering on surreal. Wheeler’s head is now pillowed against Linka’s chest, his hand moving slowly between her thighs, his gaze intense.

Strangely, Gi finds herself wanting nothing for herself, aroused at the thought of watching these two rather than participating. She wonders if either of her friends will make a more definitive move, or attempt to take things to another level…

No-one does.

* * *

There’s a small birthmark on the inside of Linka’s leg, a few inches above the knee, a roughened patch of skin. She’s self-conscious about it, Gi is curious about it… and Wheeler is fascinated by it. He props himself up on an elbow and touches it lightly with the back of his fingers, inspecting it with a reverent intensity.

The girls sink back against the cushions, with Linka settled within Gi’s lap; her legs bent slightly and tilted toward Wheeler’s wandering hand.

“Least favourite part of your body?”

Frowning, Linka taps the side of her head, indicating her overworked brain, and Gi can’t help but chuckle at that.

“I can believe that,” she says warmly. She splays her fingers against Linka’s ribs, rubbing back and forth against the cotton nightgown. “Favourite place to be touched?”

“Anywhere,” Linka sighs, shifting her legs as Wheeler’s hand dips between her thighs again.

Gi smiles, enjoying the softness of Linka’s skin and hair against her cheek, and the scent of her body wash, appreciating the subtle physical differences between men and women.

She decides that women are more nurturing than men, more comforting. Warm and loving and soft, as opposed to over-confident and dominant and hard. There’s a striking femininity at play, and it evokes a fierce sense of protection and safety.

“You want him to touch you?”

“Yes,” she says softly, and Wheeler nudges Linka’s knees apart, slipping his big hands beneath her night gown. He lifts her hips and drags her body toward him, until her legs are scissored around his waist and her head lies cradled within Gi’s lap.

Linka’s dressing gown hangs off her shoulders, her cotton nightie now rucked up around her thighs. She blinks up at Gi, dazed; her eyes dark with desire.

Wheeler bites his lip, staring down at Linka as if she were a five-course banquet, lying wedged and vulnerable between the pair of them, and a sliver of uncertainty hits Gi.

The ‘should I stay or should I go’ discussion begins to sound in her head. She considers leaving them to it, but strangely, Lin seems almost comforted by her presence, letting her guard down enough to succumb to Wheeler’s gently roaming touch. Besides; she finds herself oddly aroused at the thought of seeing how this plays out.

Throwing caution to the wind, Gi traces the swell of Linka’s breasts above the soft material, circling the nipple using just the tip of her finger, and Linka gives a low whine in response.

“You like that?” Gi asks, slipping her hand beneath Linka’s nightie and massaging her breast. She rubs a thumb over the other nipple, feeling it pebbling beneath her touch, and Linka arches with a breathy sigh. Her breasts are soft and warm, filling Gi’s palm, and the movement beneath the fabric isn’t lost on Wheeler.

“Jesus, Gi,” Wheeler says huskily. He grabs Linka’s hips again, lifting and dragging her body slowly against the front of his jeans, seeking friction.

“You like that, Lin?” Gi repeats, stroking the side of Linka’s face as she throws her head back, panting hard.

“Yes…” she whispers breathlessly.

“You still want him to touch you?” Gi asks quietly.

A vehement nod of the head.

_Hell yes._

Wheeler makes a low growl in the back of his throat. He grips the hem of her night gown, hiking it up around her waist, leaving her white panties exposed. Resettling his hand between her legs, he gives her a few circling strokes around her clit for good measure, and this time Linka bucks her hips with a sob.

She reaches blindly for him, craving firmer contact, but Gi grabs her wrists and tugs them away, forcing them against the couch cushions.

Linka moans, frustrated; her clothing rucked up and her chest heaving, looking spectacularly dishevelled.

“She’s wet,” he observes, moving his thumb slowly back and forth over her panties. “Soaked through.”

“Oh god,” Linka gasps, moving against his hand. “Oh god, please —”

He hooks his fingers beneath the cotton and peels her underwear off, tossing it aside, and Gi watches him spreading her knees further apart.

Linka is whimpering now, her breathing shallow and ragged. Gi’s view is somewhat limited, but she can see his hand dipping and circling, and eventually she hears the slick sounds of his fingers working her flesh.

“Just your fingers tonight,” Gi says softly, stroking Linka’s trembling wrist. “Make her come.”

And he does.

* * *

Thunder and lightning strike outside, heavy winds lashing the walls of the hut and howling through the palm trees. It pummels the windows, shaking the glass.

Wheeler ties the final knot around the wrought iron bed post, pulling on Linka’s wrists to make sure she’s restrained properly. Her arms are outstretched above her head, her hair lying loose and curling over her shoulders, hiding the flimsy straps of the singlet she’s wearing.

The bed lurches as Wheeler repositions himself. Kneeling between Linka’s feet, he grabs her hips and heaves her ass back into his lap again, causing the restraints to draw tight and her hands to flex involuntarily.

Gi settles onto her stomach, facing in Wheeler’s direction as she props herself up on her elbows. Smiling at her upside-down face, she strokes Linka’s breast through the fabric again.

“Favourite place to be touched?”

“Down there,” she breathes, wriggling her hips toward Wheeler who has yet to put his hands on her in any meaningful way, other than jostling her about.

Gi smiles, smoothing Linka’s hair away from her forehead. “Do you ever touch yourself when you’re alone?”

“Mmm,” she sighs.

“How often?”

“Hmm?”

Gi tuts quietly, grabbing the hem of Linka’s singlet and peeling it upward, exposing her soft breasts to the air.

The effect on Wheeler is instantaneous. He lets out a heavy breath and slumps forward, pressing his mouth to her waist and sucking hard. Searing and hot, he begins a slow slide up Linka’s body, licking and nibbling at her bare skin.

“How often do you touch yourself?” Gi repeats.

“Sometimes,” she whispers. “When… my own….”

“Favourite position?” Gi asks.

“I… I do not know,” she says, squirming breathlessly. “I have only… he… ooooh,” she utters, red-faced and straining as he hovers over her nipple, his warm breath and wet. “Oh my God, I have only…”

“We’ll give you a free pass on that,” Gi says, and Linka shudders as Wheeler mouth captures her breast, licking and sucking her flesh, her fists clenching as she pulls at the restraints desperately.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, and he slips an arm beneath her waist, forcing her back to bow, pressing her further into his mouth. He switches to the other breast, tugging gently at her nipple with his teeth, and she bucks beneath him with a soft whimper.

“Do you like that?” Gi asks.

“Hmm,” she sighs, wrapping her long legs around Wheeler’s waist.

Gi strokes Linka’s cheek. “You want more?’’

“Mmm,” she breathes.

“Tell us what you want,” Wheeler says, his voice pitched low in Linka’s ear. He tugs the singlet higher, stretching the material over her outstretched arms until it’s inside-out and covering her face. Filling his hands with her breasts, he kneads her gently, and she sobs against the makeshift blindfold.

“You want me to touch you, babe?”

“Mmm…”

“Use your words, dope,” he says teasingly, pressing a kiss to her sternum. “You want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Both,” she croaks.

Grinning, he grabs a thick pillow and clambers his way back down the bed, stripping her panties down over her legs. He shoves it under her ass, raising her hips and sinking down onto his stomach. Gripping her hips, he takes his time, teasing her open with his mouth and fingers until she’s squirming wildly, gasping her pleasure into the cool night air.

Gi is stunned at the sight of her, all tied up and naked and spreadeagled. Her body is perfect; tanned, flawless skin, and soft, voluptuous curves, and she loves the way Linka’s body jolts in shock every time Wheeler’s tongue drags slowly against her.

Gi shifts positions to get a better look, wanting to watch, stroking Linka’s stomach as he presses into her harder, working her flesh faster, maintaining a rhythm until she’s a sobbing, jittery mess.

“Don’t fuck her when it’s done,” Gi murmurs. “I mean it.”

As the sensations becomes too intense, Gi finds herself having to help hold her down; wrestling Linka’s knees back to her chest and pressing her weight into them as she starts to buck and shudder and fight them. Wheeler pushes two fingers inside her, dragging a long, desperate moan from Linka, and she comes hard, crying out as she spasms wetly around his fingers.

It’s the sexiest thing Gi’s ever seen, and it’s also at this point that Wheeler officially reaches his limit.

He flips her onto her stomach in a mad rush, frantic as he opens his jeans and shoves them down, releasing himself. His cock is thick and hard as he kneels over Linka’s body, fumbling roughly for her hips and —

“Don’t fuck her, yet,” Gi reminds him with a touch of annoyance. “It’s not all about you, asshole.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growls, looking rightly pissed off to high hell. “You’re startin’ to —"

Gi shoves him, just as he makes a grab for her arm and they both over-balance, tipping forward, his forehead crashing into Linka’s shoulder blades.

“What the hell are ya —"

Gi’s half on top of him when she reaches around and grips him firmly, and he gasps, his whole body tensing up. He’s hot and rigid, straining against her palm as she starts stroking him, pressing herself into his thigh.

Repositioning himself, he tugs Linka’s singlet back down over her body and wrangles an arm around her, pulling her as close as her restraints will allow.

Gi pumps him harder, flicking her thumb over the head, and he buries his face in Linka’s neck, groaning. It’s not long until he comes with a shout, his hips jerking long after he’s exploded over Gi’s hand and Linka’s lower back.

He collapses in a heap beside Linka, exhausted and sweaty and sated, and Gi slips off the side of the bed, bouncing to the floor with a pained grunt.

Running her hand through her hair, she takes a few deep breaths, processing what just went down. She looks them over for a moment, given to a moment of reflection. Linka’s arms are still bound at an awkward angle, the scarf twisted in places and pressing painfully into her skin.

_Shit._

Gi gets unsteadily to her feet, moving to release Linka’s wrists. She sits on the edge of the bed, untying her and rubbing the reddened marks that have appeared.

“Sorry,” she whispers, and Linka blinks sleepily at her, a gentle smile curling her lips.

Wheeler readjusts his jeans and flops over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He runs a shaky hand through his own hair, probably wondering what the fuck just happened.

The ceiling fan spins above them, and the wind has died down. The lightning has gone, but the thunder remains, echoing in the distance, bringing with it the hopeful promise of rain that never seems to come.

* * *

She’s become their plaything, an object to be conquered, an idol to be worshiped.

There’s a strange power play going on over Linka’s body. Gi currently holds the upper hand, but she knows the balance of power will probably shift at some point, tipping in Wheeler’s favor.

But for now, Wheeler can wait.

Their interactions are almost dream-like, and the lunacy of the situation is becoming apparent. The roles defined by their personalities have reversed.

The extrovert has been tamed, and the quiet, unassuming one feels the need to dominate.

Repression is gradually replaced by liberation. It’s a slow process, but one they take great delight in.

They discover more and more over the following nights, coaxing the answers to the questions they seek in ever creative ways. For a woman who has the tendency to share nothing of herself, Linka is hollowed out and laid bare before them. They demand honesty and reward her gains, and it’s not long before they’re making her beg and plead for it.

Linka is unaware of any sensitive areas on her body, so they work to find one, discovering a spot just behind her earlobe. If they lick and suck it just right, she turns to putty in their hands.

She’s never touched another woman’s breasts. Neither has Gi for that matter, but on another night, the girls throw caution to the wind, stripping their clothes off and settling on the bed together, cuddling, their hands gently exploring one another. Gi sets the groundwork on this one, that Wheeler can look but he can’t touch. He’s sure as hell not happy about it, but he complies… barely.

Tonight, Linka sits naked in Wheeler’s lap, braced against his bare chest, her legs splayed widely and hooked over the arms of the recliner. Her hair lies loose and tumbling down over her shoulders as they prod and tease her, seeking something more than a vague, non-committal response.

They’re persistent in their efforts.

When Linka finally admits that she’s used sex toys before, Gi rewards her with a vibrator, pressed hard against her clit while Wheeler’s fingers tug at her pink nipples, his mouth moving hotly over her neck.

They finally break her as the sunrise slips through the curtains, painting the room in a faint orange glow, her naked body jerking and heaving between them.

* * *

Control and denial.

Antagonism bubbles under the surface, between Wheeler and Gi.

Snide comments and sharp retorts fly back and forth during the day. Gi is dismissive, and Wheeler is downright exasperated at times, bull-headed and stubborn about what he wants, but it’s feeding the atmosphere. Their belligerent remarks are propelling things along, moving them forward into scenarios they never thought possible.

Wheeler is under strict instructions. He can look. He can touch and he can participate, but for now, sex is out of the question.

He’s getting mouthy again, tonight; rebelling against another “don’t fuck her’ comment thrown his way, so Gi and Linka put on a show for him instead. Stripping off their clothes, they rub up against one another, cuddling, their hands exploring. They’re gentle and loving, even more so, when Linka rolls her over and latches her wet mouth onto Gi’s breast, pressing herself between Gi’s legs and thrusting gently.

And suddenly, Wheeler has nothing to complain about, anymore.

* * *

“You should be nicer to me,” Gi says sweetly, running a hand over Wheeler’s bare chest.

“I have a hard-on the size of Mount Everest,” he sighs, adjusting his boxer shorts with a grimace. “Gonna have a heart condition by the time you two are finished with me.”

He smiles all the same, tickling her ribs, and Gi smooths a gentle hand over his forehead, stroking his hair. Squeezed into a narrow canvas tent under a canopy of stars, the trio lie tangled amongst the sleeping bags tonight, talking about random, unimportant things for a while.

Wheeler lies sandwiched between them. Linka’s wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy panties and a singlet bunched crookedly around her waist, courtesy of Wheeler’s pursuit of soft flesh.

Gi’s hand wanders, smoothing over his shoulders and collarbone, and over the muscles of his abdomen. She ducks her hand inside his shorts, and he closes his eyes, letting out a heavy breath as she plays with him, running her fingertips along the ridges of his cock.

Linka props herself up on one elbow. She traces her fingers down the side of Wheeler’s face, smoothing the hair away from his forehead. Lowering her mouth to his ear, she grins at Gi mischievously.

“Favorite position?” she whispers, as his face bears the strain of Gi’s teasing touch.

“Right now?” he grunts, thrusting his hips toward Gi’s hand and getting little contact in return. “I’ll take any one of them.”

Linka shakes her head. She hooks a leg over Wheeler’s body and straddles him, lowering herself down onto his stomach and beginning a slow slide up and down his body, and he utters a roughened groan in response.

“Favorite position?” she persists, her breasts now pressed tightly against his face.

“Girl on top,” he utters, his voice dampened within her flushed skin. Gi’s fingers latch on firmer, pumping him with steady strokes, and he jerks his hips faster.

Gi slackens off the pace again.

He groans again. “Jesus —”

“Do you ever touch yourself when you are alone?” Linka says teasingly, and Gi watches her lower a nipple into his waiting mouth.

“Mmm hmm,” he mumbles, sucking all too briefly until she arches away, her breast releasing with a wet pop. Gi’s fingertips graze his cock, and he squirms with frustration. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Gi —"

“You _should_ be nicer to her,” Linka says, her lip quirking.

“I’ll do anythin’ you want, darlin’,” he says huskily, and she presses her lips to his, open-mouthed and passionate. His hands slide possessively over her skin, before cupping her face and holding her firmly.

Gi smiles, traveling down his body and stripping his boxers down, releasing him properly. He’s thick and heavily veined, engorged to the point of madness.

Gi trails her tongue up and down his length before sliding her mouth down on him, enveloping him whole, and Wheeler grips Linka in a panic.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck —”

“Do you want me to touch you, too?” Linka’s voice, soft and knowing.

“Uh,” he utters, panting hard. “Jesus —"

“Use your words, dope,” she says teasingly, throwing his own words back at him.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, I —”

“Do you want my fingers or my mouth?” she asks, and Gi can just imagine the perfect little pout she’s giving him.

“Both…”

She joins Gi moments later, and they reward him for his patience.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s no regularity. Everything is unplanned and spur of the moment. Wheeler’s room seems to be the unofficial meeting point, due to the fact that he’s the only team member with a queen-sized bed and food readily available.

They congregate in the same place and sit around talking… until someone makes a move. Eventually, the conversation ceases, replaced by labored breathing, rustling bedsheets and the sound of bedsprings gently creaking beneath their combined weight.

There are a few constants in the chaos that follows. Gi continues to throw out a blithe reminder about the ‘no fucking’ rule, more to piss Wheeler off than anything else. Wheeler will respond with something wholly inappropriate, and an argument will ensue. Linka will assume the role of peacekeeper in an attempt to appease them both, but there’s usually only so much she can do when she’s under their hands and beneath their control.

It’s the little things that begin to chip away at Gi, eroding her self-confidence and causing her to view things through jaded eyes.

The way Linka _looks_ at him is starting to bother her. The way she _acts_ around him is something else.

No longer shy and nervous, there’s a newfound assertiveness about her; a penetrating stare she levels upon Wheeler when his attention is directed elsewhere. Today is no different; on a normal, mundane work day such as this, nothing should be out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, Linka’s head is tilted to the side and her teeth gnaw upon her bottom lip. She’s watching Wheeler distractedly as he raises his fist and fire-bombs the shit out of something.

Even Wheeler no longer chases personality-deprived blondes in mini-skirts. He seems quiet and content in Linka’s company. If anything, he’s more respectful toward her, which confuses the hell out of Gi due to their current, sordid circumstances.

There’s a depth of warmth and intelligence when it comes to Linka. You need to dig deep beneath the surface to find it. Gi has always known it, and she resents the fact that Wheeler is beginning to realise the same thing.

She’s indignant, knowing that Linka is _allowing_ him to realise the same thing.

Gi wasn’t expecting the uncertainty. She wasn’t expecting the jealousy, or the grim realisation that she’s dead on track to become the third wheel on a rickety bicycle made for two.

* * *

“Favorite movie?” Gi asks, lying spreadeagled and still basking in the afterglow.

“The Usual Suspects,” Wheeler replies immediately. He strokes his fingers through Linka’s hair. “Great movie.”

Linka adjusts the thin sheet covering her flushed body, before resettling against his bare chest with a sigh. “I do not know that one.”

“Keyzor Soze,” he mutters, as if this alone should be enough to clarify things. “Dazed and Confused would be a close second, though.”

“I do not know that one, either.”

“For the love of god,” he laughs. “At least tell me you’ve seen The Goonies —”

Linka shakes her head, confused, and he gives a theatrical grunt in response.

“You had a very sheltered childhood, toots.”

“I did not really have a childhood, Wheeler,” she reminds him, and he threads his fingers through hers, enfolding her hands against her stomach and squeezing gently.

“Terminator?”

“Is that the killing robot?”

”God,” he mutters. “Thats like callin’ Picasso a home decorator.”

“You two have nothing in common, you know,” Gi sighs flippantly. She rolls over onto her chest, propping herself up on her elbows, half-naked and eyeing them with mock derision. “Nothing.”

Linka shrugs, her eyes cast downward, and Wheeler regards Gi through wary eyes.

“Favourite food?” Linka asks softly, changing the subject.

He chuckles, nuzzling her cheek. “You really gonna ask me that?”

“Yes,” she giggles. “I like food, too!”

“Pizza. Burgers. Pasta.”

“Ugh,” Gi murmurs. “You’re a human garbage compactor.”

“Thanks,” Wheeler deadpans, rolling his eyes. “I’m a growin’ boy.”

“You’re a heart attack waiting to happen.”

“Yeah, and I hit the gym five times a week,” he says heatedly, and Linka strokes his hand in response. “I’m really not that worried, Gi.”

Gi shrugs. “Just sayin’.”

“I like pasta, too,” Linka says. “Before she passed away, my mother would make us the most delicious Blini —”

“What’s that, babe?”

“It is like a thin, American pancake.” Linka smiles, recalling what was obviously a fond memory. “She would wrap chicken, spring onions and feta cheese inside, and then fry it in the skillet.”

“Yum,” Gi says, jumping to her feet and gathering up the clothing lying scattered around the room.

“It was delicious.” Linka cranes her head back, and he nuzzles her cheek and nose again. Smiling up at him contently, she strokes his fingers, and Gi bristles, aware that Linka is looking a little too doe-eyed and comfortable within his embrace. “I could make it for you if you like, Wheeler —”

“We need to go,” Gi announces suddenly, grabbing Linka’s ankles and dragging her out from Wheeler’s arms. "Up."

“What…” Linka starts, glancing back at Wheeler in confusion. The moment is lost as Gi tosses Linka’s clothes toward her. They fall in an untidy pile around her sheet-clad body.

Wheeler sends a furious glare in Gi’s direction, and she shrugs innocently. “Gotta be up early.”

Linka pulls her dress quickly down over her body as Gi ushers her from Wheeler’s room. 

Ashamed, Gi adds sabotage to her growing list of skills.

* * *

“Don’t fuck her,” Gi says, her tone sharp and caustic, even over the soft moans filling the room. Linka lies on top of Gi, her face pressed tightly against Gi’s breasts. Linka’s breath heaves hot and heavy against her skin with each slow thrust of Wheeler’s hand.

He’s touching her with something. Gi’s not even sure what he’s using, fingers, tongue or otherwise, but judging by the enraptured noises Linka is making, she certainly has no complaints. 

She’s gripping Gi’s hand so hard she can feel the indents of her nails piercing her skin, but Gi can’t bring herself to let go.

Linka raises her head, and Gi catches a glimpse of her; all dazed and blissed out, flushed with heat and perspiration. Her hair is a tangled mess of rough curls spilling down over her shoulders, and she only has eyes for _him, _and that scares Gi more than anything.

Scrambling to her knees, Linka shoves Wheeler onto his back. He lands on the mattress with a grunt as Linka crawls over the top of him naked, reaching inside his shorts. Sweeping her own hair aside, she lowers her mouth onto him, licking and sucking greedily.

_Don’t fuck him._

The thought pops into Gi’s head unbidden, the usual external dialogue having morphed into a desperate, silent plea.

Gi watches them for a moment, still holding Linka’s hand, hating the fact that they look so good together, hating the fact that there’s a level of devotion between these two, as well as a strong sense of anticipation — anticipation that Gi has helped create and foster, and is now beginning to regret.

She hates it even more when he rolls Linka over, thrusting into her wet mouth as he dives back between her thighs again, working her over until she comes with a strangled cry.

When it’s over, when he rolls off and collapses onto the bed, sated, his eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls steadily.

For Gi, the self-loathing continues, bubbling away in the pit of her stomach. She hates that Linka’s hand is still clutched tightly within her own iron grip, as if letting go will mean something.

She hates that she chooses to crawl between them, wedging herself in as a barrier and denying them the opportunity to lie together and connect further. 

Hates that she’s become both a facilitator and a major fucking impediment.

Most of all, Gi hates that she’s become so confused and disillusioned, because this is not who she is. Not who she thought she was.

They’re all quiet for once, falling asleep where they lay. Linka’s mop of blonde hair lies cradled possessively against Gi’s chest. She’s all softness and vanilla-scented glory, and Gi ducks her head, pressing her chin against the top of Linka’s head, feeling on the verge of tears and bewildered as to why.

Gi sleeps with her arms full, but at around four am, she wakes alone and empty-handed. Linka lies on the other side of the bed, cuddled against Wheeler’s broad chest, her fingers curling and uncurling against his stomach.

Those small, barely perceptible movements continue to create such havoc. Life indeed leads you in certain directions, but it’s not the direction Gi expected to be going.

* * *

Her evening out with what’s-his-face had been a pity date. Having ignored his messages and emails until he finally cracked it, Gi returns his calls with a half-hearted, grovelling apology.

She eats a meal she has no interest in consuming, listening to banal conversation she has no interesting in joining… with a man she has no interest in dating — irony at its finest. She’s ambivalent and, to be quite honest, a bit of a bitch, really. Restlessness soon sets in, and Gi wraps things up, returning earlier than anticipated.

Wheeler’s hut is dark and quiet. She treads the well-worn path to the front step, reaching the door… and finds it locked.

Batting palm leaves out of her way, she slides along the windowsill and peeks through the shutters. The windows are open, and she raises herself, squinting into the dim light inside.

She can’t see them, but she can _hear_ them, she can hear Linka’s ragged gasps and the gentle buzz of the vibrator that’s no doubt between her legs.

It takes a moment for Gi’s eyes to acclimatise. The side of his armchair is visible, as is the pale gleam of Linka’s right leg, hooked over the arm rest and dangling idly, her toes flexing. She’s in his lap again, one of his hands caressing her breast and the other… well, Gi can hazard a guess.

Linka’s head is tipped back against his shoulder, her eyes closed and her mouth open. Her body eventually tenses and she grabs his hand as she comes, over-sensitised, clamping her knees shut against the tremors and laughing breathlessly.

She curls up across his lap contentedly, cuddling into him, seeming to enjoy the downtime – or his fingers tracing gently over her bare skin. A loud thump startles Gi, and she assumes the vibrator has been discarded, having served its purpose… much like Gi has.

He lowers his head, and she raises hers, and they kiss, slow and sensual; and for Gi, it’s the final nail in the coffin. Wheeler moves Linka’s hair aside and whispers something in her ear, and she tips her forehead against his, smiling gently at him.

He lifts her into his arms, and they move to the bed, disappearing behind the partition wall… and then they’re gone.

And so is Gi.

* * *

Gi slumps back against the counter, clutching her wine glass in one hand and rubbing her forehead with the other. There’s a bleary headache forming behind her eyes and she downs another vodka in an effort to mask the symptoms.

There are no philosophical ramblings traversing her brain tonight, no midnight musings to keep her occupied, just shitty rap music and a bartender with a nose ring and facial tattoos who keeps asking if she’s okay.

She’s fine. Thanks for asking.

She’s bitter, irritable and generally unhappy, but she’s fine.

_They’re_ not here. No longer referred to as _him_ or _her_, but _they, _as if becoming a couple leaves you devoid of independence and the right to greet you as an individual entity.

Three months and going strong. _They’re_ besotted with one another. Gi supposes the correct term is _love. _She’s happy enough for them, but it doesn’t help quell the quiet sadness, or the general feeling of discontentment when she sees them together.

The past is buried beneath layers of dirt and hostility. Things aren’t the same with Wheeler. He’s pleasant enough, but the ribbing and comradery has all but gone. He’s guarded around her, and if she’s truly honest with herself, she misses him.

Linka is the same sweet-natured bundle of sunshine, but still, the dynamic of the team has changed and Gi is considering her options.

So Gi sits quietly, mulling over her seventh vodka, reflecting on those small, perceptible moments that ultimately shape one’s future.

She remains for another hour in a moody silence, downing another shot and dismissing the men who attempt to hit on her. Eventually, she grabs her purse and returns to the hotel, traversing the streets alone, her handbag jerking around violently with each hurried step.

Undressing, she climbs wearily into her bed and drags the covers up to her chin, staring at the empty pillow beside her before falling into an unsettled sleep.

Chaos theory certainly has a lot to answer for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really wanted this to be a character study of flawed, and ultimately human individuals. I know I’ve probably left a bitter taste in your collective mouths, but I stand by every word. Thank you to Minkel for your feedback and support on this xxx


End file.
